


Euphoria (From the Devil's Hand)

by darklumi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst GALORE!, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demonic Possession, Demons, Depressed Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, F/M, First Time, Jackson Never Left, M/M, Mama Stilinski Feels, Oblivious Stiles, Off-screen Character Death, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dad Derek Hale, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Stilinski Family Feels, erica is aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!, power of love conquers all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklumi/pseuds/darklumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles clenched his fists, feeling empty and alone. He took a deep breath, shuddering shakily when he exhaled and his eyes began to sting and fill with moisture. He wiped at them angrily, he refused to cry. He breathed deeply to keep himself calm, to keep the overwhelming feeling of panic at bay, he didn't want to have a panic attack, not here, not out in the open like this. Derek was out there, he knew it, and he wasn't going to embarrass himself further in front of the werewolf. To make himself look needy. Stiles just let his shoulders slump with defeat and climbed into his jeep.</p><p>No one wants you. </p><p>He drove home silently, entered the house, and laid upon the bed. His felt his eyes droop heavily, his breathing evened out shortly after, and he fell asleep easily. He then entered a dream where the pain wasn't as sharp and he wasn't alone. He entered a dream where he was just a shadow to those that didn't matter and was someone important to a person that did.</p><p>**due to the disappointed reviews given by my readers I am going to rewrite the ending of this fic. You can read this version but I will be posting and new and approved version in a week or so. Please be patient and thank you for the understanding!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Euphoria (From the Devil's Hand)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Teen Wolf fic! Whoop! :D and it's also unbetaed! So I'm sorry for all the errors that I might not have spotted.
> 
> This story veers off from season 2 (I'm completely ignoring season 3 because I started this before it aired and I take a long time to write stuff). Also as you can see I like me some Erica and Jackson so they are alive and well! 
> 
> As a side note this was inspired by the song Euphoria by Motopony. I tried to take the essence of that song and write a fic based off it, so hopefully I succeeded in that.
> 
> You should listen to it, I tell you! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gULh3P3U8BQ
> 
> Alsooooo for further warnings read the end notes, especially if you're squeamish or want to know who is dead.

It starts off like it always does. He wakes and can see nothing, a hazy white smoke concealing his surroundings, and everything is intangible but what is ten feet around him. Sometimes he can make out the ghost of a figure walking past, nothing more than a shadowy presence, body smeared and black like chalk when it began to rain. He doesn't try to get their attention, it's futile, because no matter how much he tries they don't talk or acknowledge him. He realized after the second time being here he is as much of a ghost to them as they are to him.

It starts off like it always does and he knows it will end like it always does. His body moves on it's own accord, bare foot, crushing through the snow. He knows he should feel cold but can feel nothing. He knows he should smell the crispness of winter but there's nothing.

Nothing but sound. The whispers of his name.

 _"Stiles...Stiles..."_ Its a breathy sigh. A woman's voice. One he knows to well and one he will never hear again but in his dreams. Because this was a dream and the woman's voice was his mother's. And even though he should be sad to hear it and know it will never be real, he can't help how excited he feels to see her and how his speed picks up slightly to get to her faster. The closer Stiles gets, the clearer his surroundings become. The snow starts to melt away to fresh green grass and slowly the white fog lifts and reveals a golden sunlight. A beautiful ray of yellow embracing him and his mother.

She stands before him with a quirky smile on her face, very much like his own, and light reflects upon her skin with a beautiful peach glow. She looks healthy. She looks how she did before she had cancer; before her skin went ashy, before her wavy brown hair had been shaved, and before her cinnamon eyes had gone flat. She looks like she had never aged and Stiles feels like his heart is going to burst from his chest.

"Stiles," she says gently, "come here." That's all it takes before Stiles puts in a last burst of speed and torpedoes into her. She laughs and they embraced tightly. Stiles burrows deeper into the slope of where her neck meets her shoulder. He doesn't want to think about how he is taller than her now when before he had barely reached her waist. Stiles tries to concentrate on other things, like her smell, because his senses had awoken anew when the screen of dense fog had disappeared. Stiles makes out the aroma of laundry detergent, gardenias, and the faint traces of mold. He ignores the earthy, musky smell because it's the smell of death and he doesn't want to remember the dream will end soon and he will be alone.

"Mom..." Stiles breathes, "I miss you so much." He can feel his eyes start to prickle with tears and he clenches them shut to prevent them from leaking.

"I miss you too, Bambi." His mother cards her thin fingers through his hair. "Growing it out again?"

"Yeah but probably not as long as the first time." He laughed wetly. When he was younger he had been jealous of the girls at school because of their flowing locks, but in particular, he had wanted his mother's hair the most. It was long and silky and he wanted hair like hers; where it draped down her back with waves and perfect curls of amber and chocolate. It didn't matter that boys were suppose to have short hair or that he would get made fun of, so he grew it out. It had barely reached his shoulders and sure enough fell and bounced with soft curls. It hadn't gotten any longer because his mom had become sick. So they shaved their heads together and he had never gotten the courage to grow it past that until now. His hair, slightly longer, was a sign of moving forward as his hair twisting in a sad attempt of loops and waves.

"Hmm, I don't think you're ready."

Stiles opened his eyes, confused, and tried to pull back slightly, but his mother's arms tightened. "What?"

"You're not ready, baby, I can feel it." She whispered gently. "Did your friends put you up to this?"

"Well, yeah. Lydia and Danny think-"

"Listen to me, it doesn't matter what they think. Remember people should love you for you and you shouldn't change your appearance to make them like you." She trailed off, fingers still sweeping through his messy hair. "You're not ready, Bambi."

Stiles relaxed back into her embrace. "You're right mom."

"Of course I'm right! I know you better than anyone." He could hear her smile. "It just seems like your friends don't have your best interests at heart."

"They do-"

"Hey, what kind of friends change you? I love you, Bambi, just the way you are. Now let's do something about that hair, alright?"

Stiles nods and wakes up. He stared up at the white ceiling on his room for a brief moment before he rose from bed. It was still dark, the sliver of moonlight barely aiding him as he maneuvered around his messy floor and out of his room. At the end of the hall, his dad's door was still shut, but he could still hear his dad's snores. Stiles paused, as an empty feeling filled his chest, his dad never kept his door closed if he was home, never. Because when Stiles was younger and his mother in the hospital, he had panic attacks that would stem from the fear of being alone or left behind. His dad had began to leave his door open so Stiles could wander in and sleep. Stiles had stopped going into his dad's room when he was twelve but it still helped to know that the door was always opened.

Now, however, their relationship was strained and Stiles couldn't blame him. They had always had an open relationship, they could tell each other anything because they were all they had left, but things had changed when Scott was bitten and had become a werewolf a year and a half ago. Every time Stiles lied, he saw his father stare at him with distrust, disappointment, and like he was a complete stranger.

Stiles rubbed his chest, as he continued to his destination, trying to rub the empty feeling away. He flipped on the bathroom light and shut the door behind him. Opening one of the drawers he grabbed his hair clippers, plugged it in, and stared at his reflection. His hair had to go. Flipping the machine on, he raised it to his head, and watched as tufts of hair rain down into the sink.

 

<><><>

Stiles woke again from his dad knocking on the door. "Hey, time to get up."

"Whyyyyy?" Stiles rolled over and stuffed his head under his pillow.

"Because today is Monday." His dad knocked once more on the door. "Get up."

Stiles rose and sat there for a moment, trying to wake up fully. For some reason, he was still tired despite sleeping wonderfully the rest of the night. Normally, he could sleep as little as four hours and still not feel as tired as he felt now. He rubbed his eyes, slapped his cheeks, and got out of bed. He brushed his teeth and took a quick shower absent minded. Drying off lazily before he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back to his room to find something to wear. He went through his drawers, pushing shirts and jeans out of the way.

Slowly and steadily, Lydia, Allison, Erica, and Danny had removed clothes they thought were unappealing, or too small, or just plain hideous from Stiles' wardrobe. Forcing him on many shopping expeditions to refill his shelves with skinny jeans, more fitted shirts, and less plaid. They said they were trying to get him laid but Stiles felt like they were really just embarrassed to be seen with him, and frankly, he couldn't blame them. His group of friends were inhumanly beautiful, some of them rightly so, since they were werewolves. The humans of their group really didn't have an excuse so Stiles just considered them freaks of nature.

Stiles finally spotted a shirt that he had managed to hide from his friend's falcon eyes so it hadn't gotten tossed with the others. It was worn and had some holes along the hem but it was a shirt that had belonged to his mom. An old Ramones band shirt that was huge on her but managed to fit him well enough. He pulled it on along with some old pants that were looser, and honestly, more comfortable around the crotch. He slipped on his shoes, grab his backpack, and trotted down the stairs to the kitchen.

His dad was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, files spread out in front of him. They took up more than half the table. Stiles went to the fridge and grabbed a water, chugging some before asking, "New case?"

His dad grunted.

"Anything interesting?"

His dad grunted again.

"Are you going to be home late? Should I drop off some lunch later?" He twisted the lid back on the bottle.

"Don't worry about it." His dad said.

"Ok," Stiles bit his lip. "I'll see ya later then." He grabbed his keys from the counter and walked out the door. The drive to school was uneventful like always, he just tapped his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat of the song playing. He pulled up and parked. He slid out of the car and headed up the front door, joining the herd of high school students. Stiles headed to his locker first, pulling out his text book for math.

Stiles yawned, covering his mouth with one hand. It was definitely too early for math but he was just grateful it wasn't Chemistry as his first class for the day.

"Hey!" Scott popped up next to Stiles, knocking his shoulder against his friend's. His brown eyes were glazed, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled, and his lips were twirled into a dopey grin. It was a look that was usually plastered on his face when Allison was on his mind.

_He'd rather spend time with her than you._

Stiles shook his head a bit, turning back to his locker. "Hey, how's Allison?"

Scott's smile stretched wider across his face. "She's good."

Stiles grinned. "So what did you do yesterday?"

"Oh a of little this and a of little that." Scott blushed harder.

"That's my boy." Stiles clapped his hand on his friend shoulder.

"Yeah, we didn't hang long because she had a hair appointment with Lydia but afterwards I hung out with Isaac."

Stiles smile dropped a little and Scott carried on. "You should see Allison's hair, she chopped it off to her shoulders! I always thought I liked her with long hair but wow...she's just gorgeous."

Stiles laughed humorlessly, "I guess we both had the same thing in mind. Cut it all off before summer reigns upon us!"

Scott's brown eyes shifted from the others freshly buzzed head to his clothes, confused. "Wow, Lydia is going to freak."

Stiles zipped up his bag, resting against the lockers, as Scott pulled out his text books from his own locker. "Lydia, sweet, sweet, Lydia is going to have to deal. Plus, it's not like it won't grow back."

"Well, I thought you wanted a make over to get laid?" Scott closed his locker and Stiles bounced off the lockers, making their way to class.

Stiles cheeks flared. "I never said that!" He rubbed his hand over his shaved head, the bristles a familiar comfort.

"Whatever you say dude. I just can't wait to see Lydia's face," Scott laughed, brown eyes twinkling.

Stiles chuckled, "It's definitely going to be a sight!"

The school bell rang, Scott's ears twitching from the shrill sound. They split at the end of hall, going off in different directions, Stiles to AP Calculus and Scott to English. Stiles didn't have many classes with the pack this year, all of them lucky they weren't held back last year from all the classes they had missed. They owed it to Stiles, Lydia, and surprisingly enough Derek, who had finally (after defeating the Alpha pack), sat them all down and made them apply themselves to their studies.

Derek, well, he wasn't so bad to have around when everyone's lives weren't at stake.

It was a rocky start, everyone had their own agendas when the Alpha pack was running around Beacon Hills, and no one wanted anything to do with anyone. They were all too sore from the chaos created by Gerard Argent and the Kanima. For one, Boyd and Erica had been missing, i.e. taken hostage, for three months, and used as collateral for Derek to do the Alphas' bidding. Jackson and Lydia had disappeared for a while and no one, not even Danny knew where they had gone off too.

As for the never ending hostility between Scott and Derek, it escalated to an all time high as Isaac split his time between helping Derek and becoming closer to Scott. Stiles will admit that's probably when the rift between Scott and him really started to make itself known.

Before the bite, Stiles had no doubt about ever leaving Scott's side. They had knew each other too long, had seen each other cry and bleed, and been there for each others' worst chapters of their lives. That was before the bite. Now that Scott was a werewolf, he could run faster, see better, and could do things that Stiles could only dream of doing. Scott was popular. Scott was the lacrosse star. Scott was leaving Stiles behind and it had never been more apparent until Scott was too busy with Allison, or hanging with Isaac, or doing werewolf "things."

Before the bite, Stiles would choose Scott over anyone. After the bite, Scott wasn't on Stiles favorite persons list. Stiles had to resort to seeking out Derek Hale to keep him company, which wasn't exactly the worst thing to happen, but falling in love with him was.

The teen bit his lip thinking about it.

It was a weird twist of fate, falling out of love with Lydia, realizing she was never ever going to date him; and falling head over heels for Derek freakin' Hale, who also was never going to return his feelings. Stiles figured he was doomed to forever suffer the horrors of unrequited love. Because when people looked like angels on earth, like Lydia and Derek, they certainly weren't going to set their sights on people like him.

 

<><><>

_"Hey, Lydia," Stiles fiddled with the hem of his shirt. They were in the middle of the library and now was the perfect time to ask because one: they had a little privacy since the rest of class was spread out searching for books elsewhere; and two: the rest of their clique wasn't around either. "Listen, this is going to sound absolutely crazy, but uh-"_

_"Spit it out. I don't have day to listen to you babble on and on." Lydia pulled out a book, flipping through it._

_Stiles took a deep breath before flailing his arms nervously and spewing out, "Ok, canyougivemeamakeover?" He watched Lydia look up slowly, staring at him with furrowed brows._

_"What?"_

_"I asked if you would give me a makeover?" Stiles shrugged. "But don't worry about it! Now I just realized how stupid an idea-"_

_"Did I say that?" Lydia placed the book in it's original spot._

_"No?"_

_"Then quiet. So, you want help to look more attractive?"_

_"Yes."_

_Lydia smirked evilly and Stiles shivered. "Well, you've come to the right person. One question though, why the sudden change?"_

_Derek's face flashed through Stiles head but the boy shrugged._

_"I won't help you until you tell me." Lydia chimed._

_Stiles whined, "Whyyy? You probably already know!"_

_Lydia's lips stretched wider over her face. "That you have the hots for Derek?" Stiles blushed. "It's pretty obvious to everyone. I'm just glad that I'm human and don't have to smell your dick harden whenever he's in the same room with you."_

"Lydia!" _Stiles hissed, he felt his cheeks flare to life, heat settling down his neck and shoulders. "Shhhh!"_

_Lydia looked at him bored, hands on her hips. "Do you want help or not?"_

_Stiles bounced on his feet and bit his lip. He felt like he was selling his soul over to the devil, he mused, this could either end well or become a complete disaster. Stiles sighed heavily, "Yes."_

_Lydia smiled, "Hmmm, you're in luck, I'm feeling generous but I'm going to need some help. And you owe me big time."_

_Stiles had a feeling it was going to end bad, so very, very ,bad._

 

<><><> _  
_  


Stiles didn't see any of the pack until lunch and sure enough, Lydia's face was a sight. He was surprised she could still appear attractive while her face contorted into a disgusted grimace but if anyone could pull it off, it would be Lydia.

She didn't say anything, probably still in shock, until he sat his lunch tray down onto the table. In fact, the whole table didn't say anything. The pack all staring at him like he had down something down right evil, such as spitting in their food. No, that wasn't evil enough. Stiles was pretty sure Scott and Isaac would probably still eat their food, spit and all.

"What did you do?" Lydia hissed. "And _what_ are you wearing?"

"Shaved my head, duh!" Stiles smiled. "And I'm wearing-"

"It smells like moth balls," Jackson sneered, "whatever it is. I hope you don't plan to sit with us looking like that."

Stiles winced.

Lydia made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. "All my hard work-"

" _Our_ hard work," Erica corrected, with a lazy smirk, eyes focused on Stiles' buzz.

Stiles went to pull a chair out but found it wouldn't budge. He glared at the culprit. "It's just hair! It will grow back."

"No, it's not just hair." Lydia muttered and released the chair, sliding her feet back beneath her seat.

Stiles plopped down and dug into the mystery meal, feeling eyes boring into him, he looked up to see everyone still staring. "What?"

Boyd and Isaac shook their heads and went back to eating, clearly not wanting anything to do with the "drama" that was sure to erupt at the table. It seemed the only ones who were going to make a big deal out of it was Lydia and Erica.

"Why?" Lydia frowned delicately.

Stiles shrugged, mouth full.

"Don't worry dude," Scott grinned, "I still think you're hot."

"Awww thanks buddy, I knew our love was strong." Stiles quipped, swinging his arm around the brown eyed pup, and made kissy noises, jokingly. Scott laughed and pushed his face away. Jackson pretended to throw up and Stiles smirked at the blonde. "No need to act jealous Jackson I got some love for you too."

Erica's face was pinched, like she had swallowed something sour and said, "You ruin _everything_ Stiles," before munching angrily on her apple.

Stiles heart clinched.

Allison smiled gently, "I think if Stiles feels more comfortable with his old self and we should respect that."

Stiles beamed back, "Thanks Allison."

Lydia scoffed prettily and said nothing more.They went back to eating and Stiles thought nothing more would be said on the matter.

He was wrong when Danny swallowed and said, "It just kinda sucks that you wasted our time, ya know?"

Stiles paused, shoulders slumping, and smiled self-deprecatingly. "Sorry guys. I guess I just wasn't ready to bring the world to their knees with my smoking good looks."

The table laughed, tension broken.

Stiles turned back to his food when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled his out, noticing he wasn't the only who had received a text.

"Aw Derek learned to send a group text," Stiles grinned, "sooo proud of him. Who took the time to teach him?" It was no secret among the pack that Derek was incredibly technologically challenged. It was actually pretty hilarious to watch him around a computer. He was the guy who would type with two fingers on the keyboard, tapping to hard and too slow, and getting more frustrated by the second. Derek also didn't have a cellphone; well, at least until the pack had went out and made him get a simple flip phone, thick and sturdy.

Of course this explained why he would suddenly pop up at Stiles window in the middle of the night, demanding Stiles to research the latest villian, and it wasn't going to change. So Stiles had bought and placed a welcome mat beneath his window sill that read: wipe your paws.

Isaac smiled, "Your welcome everyone."

_pack meeting at 8:30_

"He does know tonight's a school night right?" Scott asked. Normally, pack meetings were followed by pack bonding, lasting well into the early morning of the next day. They were also usually planned on Friday or Saturday nights so they didn't have to worry too much about making excuses of being out so late. If Derek planned a pack meeting at any other time, it usually meant something was wrong. Stiles wasn't surprised, really, they hadn't had any problems since the goblins three months ago, when they kidnapped children from their beds. Very Labyrinth-esque, if you asked Stiles. Except there was no catchy singing numbers, no talking doorknobs, or creepy humanoid fox-bird hybrids dancing around, thank god!. Either way it was due time for some kick ass crime fighting.

"I'm sure he does, McCall, don't be an idiot." Jackson jabbed.

"What are you guys talking about?" Danny inquired.

"Uhh," Scott looked around.

"Our bowling league Captain." Allison answered smoothly.

"Yeah, he's a bit anal about practice." Erica added.

Danny looked confused. "I didn't know you guys joined a league."

Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder. "It's bit of a new development."

"No kidding," Danny said. "Maybe I can watch you guys sometime. Well, I got to go talk to Finstock about my essay. See ya guys later." He rose, waved, and walked off.

Isaac ducked down, asking quietly, "When are we going to tell him the truth?"

"We aren't." Jackson growled.

"Dude, chill." Stiles pushed his tray away. "Maybe we should ask Derek? It's not like the Alphas are running around town, putting everyone's lives in danger anymore."

Boyd wrapped his arm around Erica's shoulders comfortingly as she shuddered. "Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't find out. There was enough close calls with Ethan and all."

This time Issac growled.

Jackson cracked his neck, agitatedly. "I don't want him to know."

"Why?" Isaac's shoulders slumped, peaking up through his curls. "Maybe he can be useful and we wouldn't have to lie to him anymore."

Jackson slammed his hand down on the table making Stiles and Isaac jump. "You just want to get in his pants Isaac, which to me, isn't a good enough reason to warp his sense of reality."

Stiles reached out and rubbed Isaac's back. "Hey, Jackson, while that can be a possibility, Danny is a big boy. Why don't you let him decide what he can handle?"

Jackson glared at the human. "That's funny coming from you since you're keeping your dad in the dark too."

Stiles brows furrowed, "That's not the same thing and you know it."

"You know what they say about de-ni-al Stilinski." Jackson's lips twisted into a smirk.

"Enough," Lydia's chilly voice could definitely make a grown man shit his pants, Stiles thought, as he leaned back. "As of right now we have something else to worry about and it certainly isn't about who needs to know the truth. That can be decided later."

Scott rubbed his forehead. "Please, please don't let it be vampires again."

They all winced sympathetically.

 

<><><>

Stiles rolled up and parked next to Derek's camaro. No one else had arrived yet, he noted as he got out of the Jeep, Scott and Allison doing the same. Pack meetings were held at the Hale house, though while it was still under construction, it provided more room and privacy for their activities than Derek's loft did. The construction was a slow process, Stiles and the pack had finally convinced Derek to move on and rebuild, six months ago. The walls were up, the water worked, and the kitchen was complete. There was enough furniture to provide comfort and the electricity allowed them to watch movies afterwards, if they had time. Stiles wouldn't be surprised if Derek actually lived here now; the zombie uncle, however, seemed too flamboyant to rough it out as Derek did.

"Honey I'm home!" Stiles called as he slammed the door open. He didn't need to shout, Derek probably knew they were near when they turned in on his drive way two miles away. "And I bring goodies!" Allison and Scott went into the living room to claim the love seat.

Stiles rustled his bags of treats into the kitchen, placing them on the marble counter tops, and reaching inside to unload.

"You cut your hair." A husky voice tickled his ear, Stiles yelped, dropping the homemade cookies, and swinging his arm wide to attack.

His hand never connected with his intended target, instead, it was caught effortlessly by Derek. "Jesus! I need to get you a bell!"

Derek smirked, canines visible and sharp, and released the teen's hand. "You just need to train your senses like the rest of them."

"Um...hello! I'm a human, say it with me," Stiles grabbed Derek's cheeks, working his jaw to mime, "huuu-maaaan. My services lie in the research category not sick, hunt, and retrieve like you puppies."

Derek smacked his hands away, rubbing his face. "Cut it out," he growled and bent down to pick up the cookies. "Are these peanut butter? I like pea-"

Stiles snatched the container away. "Tut, tut, tut, not till after dinner, you fiend."

"Just one?"

"No."

Derek's eyes flared red, "I'm the Alpha."

Stiles growled playfully, "and I'm the one who cooked your food." The teen turned back to the counter and started unloaded the rest of the bags, pulling several tuber wares of spaghetti, sauce, salad, and garlic bread. Hopefully, he had made enough, you could never know when it was werewolves you were feeding. "If we don't have enough we can order pizza."

"Did you make all of this?" Derek's thick eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, after school. My dad wasn't going to be home, working on a new case and all that, and I didn't want to waste any of it." Stiles murmured. He didn't mention that he had actually gone to the store and bought more supplies than what he originally had.

"I thought you and Scott would be out investigating?" Derek helped unload some of the bags.

"Yeah, I would have been like two years ago, but you know werewolves..." He didn't mention that he hardly saw Scott, who was too busy with Allison. In fact, the only time he saw his best friend was at school (usually his tongue down the archer's throat) if he was lucky, or at pack meetings (cuddled up to said archer). Although, Stiles couldn't blame him, if he had a girlfriend or even a boyfriend, he'd probably be lucky if he didn't die from lack of oxygen.

Derek "hmmed" and stacked the salads and drinks into the fridge before getting a pot down for Stiles to warm the sauce on the stove. The others arrived when the food was nice, hot, and ready to serve; they sat at the table, eating lively. Luckily there was enough.

Their mood dampened as they moved into the living room.

"A few weeks ago I smelt someone cross into our territory. They didn't stay long before they moved on. So I didn't think any of it," Derek started, "however, there has been a couple murders and I don't thinks it's just coincidence. I've sent Peter to sniff around, he'll call if he finds anything, but so far I don't know what we're dealing with."

"You don't have anything more than that?" Boyd asked.

"That's all I got so far. The smell-" Derek broke off to make the perfect stank face, "was repulsive. Enough to make even a human's eyes water."

"That's not a lot to go off," Lydia muttered. "Beastiary wouldn't prove beneficial until we have more information."

"Maybe they are just coincidences?" Scott proposed.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "I can snoop around my dad's files find out what I can from the murders. If there's anything peculiar about them maybe then we can narrow down certain possibilities."

Erica twirled her hair around her finger, contemplating. "Can you describe the smell, we could keep our eyes peeled, or more likely our noses."

Derek sighed heavily. "It is literally indescribable, worse than the smell of death."

Scott scoffed. "Well, thanks Derek, that's so helpful."

Derek growled deep in his chest.

Scott glared, eyes flashing gold.

"Hey, hey, you guys none of that," Stiles flailed. Sometimes it made Stiles wonder how Derek and Scott still couldn't get along. It certainly wasn't because they didn't try, or at least Derek tried, which was more than Scott could say. "Concentrate please?"

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief when Allison touched Scott's shoulder, and like magic, the wolf relaxed and looked away.

Derek huffed. "Just keep an eye out for anything or anyone strange."

"People are strange, when you're a stranger," Stiles started and oddly enough, Boyd joined, "faces look ugly, when you're alone."

Derek shook his head in disbelief as everyone laughed.

It wasn't long after the pack left leaving only Stiles and Derek in the house. They packed up the leftovers and started on washing the dishes. Stiles was content to dry and stack them because Derek knew how much he hated to wash and get pruney fingers. They did the chore in easygoing silence, often brushing fingers, that caused Stiles to blush and his heart to pound. He was grateful Derek didn't mention anything about it. He suspected Derek did it because he felt sorry for him and didn't want to cause further embarrassment.

As he settled the last dish upon the stack, he licked his lips and said, "Do you...um..."

"Just ask the question, Stiles." Derek grumbled and picked up the plates and placed them in their designated cupboard.

Stiles tapped his fingers restlessly on his legs. "Do you ever dream of Laura? Or your parents?"

Derek paused and looked at the human with somber hazel eyes. "I use to but it's been a long time. Why?"

"I've been dreaming of my mom a lot lately." Stiles smiled a little.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Stiles shook his head. "I don't think so. It's just weird because when I dreamt of her before, they were always nightmares. She looked terrifyingly fragile and sick when she had died that I kinda forgot how she looked when she was healthy. Now they're good dreams." He shrugged helplessly and looked at the other man. "She looks beautiful."

Derek returned Stiles smile softly and laid a hand upon the others shoulder, grasping it firmly, he was quiet because his action said all he needed to.

 

<><><>

Unfortunately enough, Stiles' good mood was short lived because there is another murder the very same night.

Stiles hadn't gotten home until twelve, the last one to leave the Hale house, and when he pulled up, his father is walking out the door. His father stares at him for a moment, looking lost, and Stiles feels empty again.

"Hey, where you going?" Stiles walked up cautiously.

His dad shakes his head and pulls on his Sheriff's jacket. "There's been a murder."

"You just got home though right, can't someone else handle it?"

"Don't worry about it." The sheriff gets in his car and drives off, leaving Stiles standing there in the dark. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, pulling out his phone and calls Derek.

"Stiles?"

"Hey, there's been another murder. Might want to send Peter down there or something to sniff things out."

"How did you find out?"

"My dad...h-he just left." Stiles stumbled, feeling his eyes sting. "So yeah, now would be a good time to look at those files. I'll...I'll call you back in a bit."

"Stiles-"

He ended the call and went inside. Sure enough the files were spread out on the table and it looked like his dad hadn't had time to clean up before he left; because right there next to the papers was a glass still a finger full of whiskey. The ice inside slowly melting, creating perspiration upon the glass, and making a water stain on the wood.

Stiles shuffled the papers around, sat down on the chair, and read the narrative on the police reports.

So far there had been three murders, not including the one from tonight, and they all seemed like they were a coincidence; but like his father said: one's a accident, two's coincidence, and three's a pattern.

The first victim was a homeless man in his mid-forties with no name. There was no sign of struggle to warrant his death, no stab or bullet wounds, and no strangle marks; there was simply no signs of violence. Just alcohol in his system but not enough to cause death from alcohol poisoning, liver failure or internal bleeding. John Doe's body was found in an alley way, tucked behind a dumpster; his face was indistinguishable as his corpse was rotting, bloated and rupturing. Maggots feasting on his cold, lifeless, carcass.

Stiles pushed the image away, gagging. How long had that guy been sitting there, with no one caring if he was missing? He took a few breaths, trying to settle his stomach before moving onto the next murder victim.

The second victim was an old woman, Astrid Surles, seventy years old. Her body had been found at the sight of her husband's grave, who, according to the report had died barely a month ago himself. Morbidly romantic, Stiles shuddered. There was also no sign of struggle, she had mostly perfect health to cross out signs of a heart attack or stroke...it just seemed she had just passed away in her sleep.

Her body wasn't nearly as decrepit as John Doe's body was, having been found a lot sooner.

The third victim was Sally Wright who was in her mid-twenties and was a cancer patient. Stiles didn't read any further on her, simply pushing away her picture and paper work, not wanting to stare at her or learn anything more.

According to the reports, the bodies were killed where they were found, there was no proof to show they had been deposited there afterward.

Additionally, there was no corresponding evidence to how these victims were linked...except the way they died, which was unknown means, and how their bodies were marked. An elementary red mark on their foreheads.

Stiles took a picture of the signature on his phone. It looked like a rune of some sort, lines sweeping up and down, crossing and overlapping, to someone who didn't know what to look for, it could appear as a plain scribble. Stiles, though, had been looking at stuff like this for almost two years. There was a possibility that Deaton knew something about it to point them in the right direction. One thing was for certain, it wasn't just some normal dude killing people, it was something mythical.

Stiles rearranged the papers so they looked kinda how they did before, hoping his father wouldn't think he was snooping again. He slid out of the chair and went up into his bedroom. Stiles kicked his shoes and pants off, clicking away on his phone to text Derek.

_hey found somthin. we shood talk to deaton 2morro after skool._

_ok. meet you there at 3:00. you ok?_

_yeah im fine._

_i can tell you're lying even through the phone._

Stiles laughed a bit, his fingers went to run through his hair, but only felt stubble. It felt familiar but he had grown used to the thick tufts of hair, the buzz just reminded him of what he didn't have and what he couldn't let go. His mom, she always knew how to make him feel better and now that he felt like shit, she wasn't there to comfort him. To tell him it was ok.

_You're alone._

The empty feeling that had been simmering all day in his heart flared and suddenly, Stiles was gasping. He felt his eyes fill, blurring his room and his chest seized up. Stiles' fists clenched his sheets and all he could do was ride it out. Just as swiftly as his panic attack had appeared it was gone. The teen breathed deeply, wiping his face of sweat and tears, and curled up in a ball on his bed. He set an alarm on his phone and set it down on the side table because he had a feeling that his dad wasn't going to be home in the morning to wake him up.

Stiles pulled the sheets and comforter up over his head, blocking the rest of the world out.

That night he dreams of something familiar, something reassuring with amber curls and a mother's warmth.

 

<><><>

Stiles jerked awake from his phone going off.

Wiping his eyes, he reached for it, glancing at the bright screen. A call from his dad.

He swiped the screen and answered groggily, "Hello?"

"The school just called me at the station asking where my son is. Why aren't you in school?" His dad asked angrily. Stiles brought the phone away from his ear and checked the time. It was 8:42. Had he really slept through his alarm or had he been so tired he hadn't set it to begin with?

He placed the phone by his ear, yawning, and rising out of bed. "I forgot to set the alarm. I'm sor-"

"No, I've really had it Stiles. What is wrong with you?"

Stiles didn't say anything.

"I can't do this anymore Stiles."

_You killed your mother...now you're killing him._

"I'm sorry dad." Stiles whispered.

"Just..." His dad sighed tiredly, "...get to school. We'll talk later."

Stiles whinned frustrated, he dropped his phone on his bed, pulling on the same clothes from yesterday, before slipping his shoes on and heading out the door. His keys jingled in his hand as he slid into his car, started it, and drove off to school. It wasn't until he parked and walked inside that he realized he forgot his backpack.

"Fuuuuck!" Stiles looked at his watch. It was almost nine; second period wouldn't start for about another twenty minutes or so. Despite that being plenty of time to go back and get his backpack, he was already on thin ice with his dad, he figured it wouldn't be a good idea. He trotted to his home room, he opened the door, the class was all staring at him.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Stilinski." Mrs. Edwards said, handing him a paper.

"Yeah, uh I had a dentist appointment." Stiles lied and grabbed the handout, walking to one of the seats in, thankfully, the back row. Mrs. Edwards smiled before turning back to the white board, the class resumed taking notes, and stiles pulled out his phone to text Scott.

_why didnt you wake me up? i was late to skool! my dads pissed._

_that sux! i didnt knw. i was w/allison._

Of course, Stiles thought, always with Allison.

Stiles groaned, his head banging onto the desk. He was tired, his eyes drooping but the ticking of the clock was resonating off the walls, echoing in his ears, and keeping him awake.

Class dragged on, the rest of the day was the same, seemingly creeping along at a slow, torturous pace. When the bell rang for lunch, Stiles was relieved because his stomach had been growling all day. He got in line, grab food that look somewhat decent and fresh, and joined the group at their table. He opened his snack pack first because whoever said you couldn't have desert first was crazy.

Erica sneezed. "Are you wearing the same clothes from yesterday?"

Stiles grunted an affirmative.

"Ew, Stiles!" Erica laughed.

"Why the hell are you wearing your clothes from yesterday? Get dressed in the dark?" Jackson mocked, with a smirk.

Stiles stared at him. Did they really not notice he wasn't at school on time?

_It's because they don't care about you._

Apparently.

"I was late to school. I just threw on what was laying around." Stiles answered, scooping the last of the chocolate pudding from his cup.

Isaac bumped his shoulder against him, "You alright?"

Stiles bumped back, affectionately. "Yeah, totally." He smiled reassuringly and Isaac beamed. "So, as a side note, there was another murder last night. Also I went through my dad's files last night. Definitely got something interesting roaming around these here parts."

Lydia leaned forward. "Ok, Bobby Jo what did you find."

Stiles pulled out his phone, bringing up the picture of the rune, explaining, "Three of the murders each had this on their forehead." He passed his phone off to Isaac, and one by one they each glimpsed at the photo. "All of the victims had no sign of struggle or possible cause of death and all of their bodies were in public areas. There wasn't any sign that that was where it disposed the bodies, each place was where the murder happened. So what we can gather is that it doesn't care about getting caught or that it's very powerful." Stiles tapped his fingers on the table. "I've never seen this rune before so I was going to hit up Deaton later and see what he knows."

Lydia was last to study the rune. "I've never seen it either. I don't remember seeing it in the Beastiary either."

"Definitely not in the Beastiary," Allison added.

"What kind of creature kills but doesn't leave marks?" Boyd asked. "Was there any internal damage?"

"None." Stiles affirmed.

"So what we're looking for is basically a creature that can kill without touching it's victims...great." Jackson sarcastically remarked. The werewolf leaned back, carding his fingers through his hair. "Well, we're fucked."

"For once I agree with Jackson," Scott said.

"Hey! You guys we got to be optimistic here!" Stiles' arms swung in a wide arc, fingers dancing as he got their attention. "When has there ever been something we haven't beaten?"

The group smirked proudly.

"Way to keep up the team moral, Batman." Erica crooned, tucking Stiles' arm between her breasts, hugging him.

"Anything for my little puppies," Stiles petted her blonde hair. "I'm meeting Derek at Deaton's, who wants to join?"

"Can't," Erica answered, "Me, Lydia and Allison actually have a prior engagement."

"Like what?"

"That's a secret."

"Ok, guys?"

Scott looked sheepish. "Dude we have lacrosse practice, remember?"

Stiles had quit half way through Junior year, or better yet, warming the bench. The team was filled with too many werewolves to have real competition. Boyd had joined the team when Stiles was still apart of it, finally giving in to Derek's badgering to build character, strengthen pack ties, and create cohesion between the pack. And honestly, Stiles had gotten sick of watching the werewolves have fun on the filed, clowning around, while he watched from the sidelines.

"Oh yeah, my bad." Stiles chuckled.

_They're just using you._

"At least I'll have grump-grump Derek for company," Stiles crowed, his smile melted off when he spotted Danny, jogged over briskly, face devoid of his usual carefree expressions. "Danny what's wrong?"

Danny sat down, leaning his elbows down on the table. "I just found out that Oliver Scober is dead."

Stiles sucked on his teeth. Oliver Schober, along with Danny, was one of the only kids in school who's sexuality wasn't a huge secret. But that was where their similarities ended, because Danny and Oliver were what most people considered polar opposites. Danny was out going, out spoken, nice and engaging to other people. He was on the lacrosse team and had friends. Danny was popular. Oliver, however, was a gloomy guy, hardly spoke, and kept to himself. No one picked on him but no one talked to him either, and he didn't seem to have any known friends at school.

The biggest and most important difference was Danny's family was hugely accepting and supportive of his preferences. Oliver's parents were not. Danny was out, proud, and carefree. Oliver was probably one of the most depressed people Stiles had ever met.

The pack's eyes zoned in on Danny.

"What?" Stiles croaked. "Are you serious? How did you find out?"

"I was just in the main office and I over heard an officer explaining it to Principal Woods."

"Did you hear how?" Isaac bit his lip. Stiles noticed his hands twitching under the table, like he wanted to reach out to Danny, but was afraid. Stiles slipped his hand into the curly hair boy's and squeezed.

Danny licked his lips. "I heard he was murdered."

The pack each sucked in a breath, silence reigning on the table.

"That fuckin' sucks," Boyd finally said.

 

<><><>

The school bell rang, signifying the end of hell. Stiles joined the mass herd of students, exiting out the front doors, and made his way to his car. He drove to Dr. Deaton's pet hospital, his hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel, silently fuming.

Oliver had been alone.

Stiles wondered if things had been different if he had just gone out of his way to talk to people. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd had been alone, before they had the pack, a place to call home, and fit in with no questions asked. He doubted Oliver had that.

Oliver had been so young. No one should have their lives taken away. No one should have to die so young.

Stiles parked next to Derek's car, locking up, and walking in. Derek was leaned against the brick wall, waiting patiently, while he waited for Deaton to place a cast on a golden retriever's leg.

"Yo!" Stiles saluted.

Deaton looked up, smiling warmly. "Hello, Mr. Stilinski. How are you?"

"Meh, been better. Hey, boy!" Stiles walked closer. Carding his fingers through the golden fur, he laughed when the dog's tail began to thump against the metal table, with happiness.

"His name is Max." Deaton said as he continued to wind the tape around the splint.

"Hey Max! I bet you already can't wait to play fetch when that cast comes off. Hey, Derek I always wanted a dog, would you play fetch with me?"

"Only if we use your head," Derek flashed his fangs playfully.

Stiles pouted. "Meanie."

"Gentlemen, I'll be right back. Just need to take Max, here, to the back room." Deaton heaved the dog up with little effort and disappeared out of the room.

Stiles plopped down on one of the chairs along the wall where Derek rested, eyes falling shut with a moan.

"You should have gone home earlier like everyone else," Derek's voice rumbled.

"Psh! It's not like I can't go to bed early tonight and catch some zzz's," They sat in peace for a brief moment before Stiles' eyes flew open, groaning, his face disappearing behind his hands.

Derek twitched like he wasn't expecting Stiles' suddenly loud realization. "What?"

"I forgot that my dad is pissed at me and wants to talk later!" The teen rubbed his hair in frustration. "This is going to suck."

The werewolf scooted closer. "Why is he mad?"

Stiles shrugged. "He probably thinks I'm on drugs because I keep going out with you and the pack." Derek's thick brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. "Don't worry about it it's nothing a big ol' Stilinski hug won't fix."

"Ok gentlemen, you have my full undivided attention." Deaton said, walking into the examination room.

Stiles bounced up, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "What can you tell us about this?" He flipped his phone around and showed the vet the red scribble that had been found on the bodies. He had intentionally taken a picture of only the rune, managing to keep out the rest of Astrid's face; he wanted to preserve some peace for her body, and also not to have a dead woman's face on his phone.

Deaton jerked, back hitting the metal cabinets, and causing Stiles to flinched wildly but Derek easily steadied him with a hand on the small of his back.

Stiles' arms  reeled. "Whoa there!"

Derek and Stiles watched as Deaton took a calming breath, neither had seen the man so disstressed before. Deaton was the definition of composed and relaxed.

Deaton's hand reached forward, "May I see it again?"

Stiles' felt his face twist into a perturbed expression. "I don't know, are you going to freak out again, and accidentally toss my phone?"

"Stiles," Deaton said, eyes staring intently, "let me see it."

Stiles hesitantly handed the vet his phone and licked his lips. "So you know what it is?"

Deaton nodded, eyes boring into the image before him. "This is a very old rune and very powerful one at that. Where did you find this?"

"It was on a murder victim's forehead, Astrid Surles. She died about two weeks ago." Stiles answered gravely.

"Yes, I remember reading about her in the obituaries. Has there been any other victims?" Deaton asked.

"There's a John Doe, murdered about three weeks ago, Sally Wright, one week ago, and a possibly fourth victim, Oliver Scober who died last night." Stiles replied, quietly, taking comfort from the warm palm that still rested on his back. "They all had the same mark on their forehead."

"Then it seems we have a very serious matter on our hands," Deaton began. "This creature, strickly speaking, wasn't only feared among humans but other magical creatures as well. The end result was it was wiped out completely and hasn't been around for over five centuries. So my only deduction that I can pull from this evidence is that it has learned to adapt and evolved."

Stiles leaned onto the table and away from Derek's warmth. He suddenly felt cold and wanted to reach back and seek the comfort Derek's touch seemed to possess. "So what you're saying is that this monster was a motherfucker but now it's more like a bad ass motherfucker? What exactly is it?"

"In so many words, yes," Deaton set Stiles phone down, "and it doesn't have a name per se. Call it a demon, if you wish, it's more than an adequate name. This creature lives off depression, fuels it, and if it learns to breed then it can wipe out humanity."

"Dun, dun, duuuuun."

Derek and Deaton's eyes flickered towards Stiles, both of them looked unimpressed.

"I'm sorry! It just getting a little too tense. I had to ease the tension, ya know?" Stiles shrugged helplessly.

Derek's eyes were glowing red, his voice coming out more inhuman. "So how do we get rid of it?"

"Bate." Deaton replied roughly. "As I said before it lives off depression. The darker the thoughts and feelings a person carries, the stronger the demon will become. The fact he has fed off four victims, however, confuses me."

"What do you mean?"

"These particular creatures love suffering and antagonizing their victims. They go after the people who are unhappy and feed off it while fueling their depression to the point of death. They grow attached to their victims which is why they stay with them so long and try to prolong the victim's demise. Humans can only take so much," Deaton rubbed his forehead, a sudden tiredness over taking him, "so they give up."

Stiles was silent for a moment, thoughts swirling in his mind, his heart thumping wildly. "So what would happen if it were to feed off a werewolf?"

Deaton and Derek were silent.

"If what you said is correct then maybe the reason it's gone through so many victims is because it's building up it's energy to take on a larger prey. One that wouldn't die so easily as a human."

The vet nodded. "That could very well be the reason and if that's the case it could be after you, Derek."

Stiles' felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. If the demon got Derek...he shook his head, trying with all his might not to think about what would happen.

Something warm settled upon the back of his neck, a calming effect immediately taking a hold of him.

The teen looked over, Derek stared at him intently. "Don't worry nothing's going to happen."

Stiles nodded and he was relieved when Derek didn't remove his hand.

 

<><><>

Stiles drove home from the pet hospital shortly after. Derek made plans for another pack meeting that night but Stiles wouldn't be able to make it because he still had to talk to his father. The alpha promised to fill him in later.

Somehow the promise didn't seem to ease his worries, which only escalated the closer he got to home. There was a demon out there that was basically sucking the will to live out of it's victims. It went after people who were burdened with sadness.

Stiles bit his lip hard, thinking about the victims the demon had already killed. The first one, John Doe, must have been an easy first target seeing as he had no place to go, or seemingly, no family that cared about him. Then there was Astrid Surles, a woman who had lost her lifetime companion. Or Sally Wright, slowly dying from cancer, clearly excepted her fate and gave up.

Stiles tried to swallow but it felt like his throat was clogged. His mother had lived until it got to a point where she could do nothing more than accept her fate and she did so gracefully. She hadn't cried or begged like Stiles and his father had. She had just smiled and explained it was a natural order in the world and she had passed away in her sleep.

Stiles then knew, from a young age, life and death went hand in hand. The only thought that dulled the sting of her death was she had died happy and loved.

The demon's victims hadn't.

They had died alone.

The teen's hand clenched down hard on the wheel as he thought of the demon, who was still at large, and could have one the pack easily as it's next victim.

They could trigger the demon's instinct to attack them. Allison was agitated with her family's guilt over their corruption and crimes against the Hales. It was a heavy weight upon her shoulders because she believed she would never be forgiven for her wrongdoing. Scott, as easy going and carefree as he was, was still plagued with a sense of confusion with his father's abandonment. Issac was burdened with a lifetime of physical and mental abuse from his father, and Jackson, despite his douchey facade, was afflicted with his real parents' identity and his own self worth. Erica and Boyd, both still suffered nightmares from the cutting words and sharp claws of the Alpha pack. It only added to the feeling of being ostracized at school before they joined the pack. And Lydia might hide her problems better than the others, but at times, even her distress over her torment from Peter was couldn't be concealed from Stiles' eyes.

Then there was Derek. The born werewolf who had lost all his family had placed the blame of their fate on him, and acted the martyr whenever the chance arrived.

Deaton had said they needed bate and Stiles knew Derek was going to offer his stupid werewolf ass up for the job. That wasn't going to happen if Stiles had anything to say about it. As soon as he got home he was going to research all he could about the demon soul sucker and make an amazingly awesome plan to get rid of it.

He got home in no time, parking next to his dad's cruiser in the driveway, and taking a few deep breathes before getting out. When he entered the house he found his dad sitting at the table, the paper work and case files were all cleaned up, but his dad had refilled his glass with the amber poison.

"Hey dad," Stiles tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. His dad looked exhausted, shirt rumpled, and hair askew.

The empty feeling returned.

His dad took a sip of his drink before saying anything. "Stiles, have a seat." He indicated the seat across from him.

Stiles bit the tip of his tongue to keep from saying anything, slowly situating himself in the chair. His hands fumbled beneath the table when the silence became to much.

His dad rubbed his face with both hands tiredly, before looking up, hands clasped underneath his chin, "Stiles...son what's going on?" His voice came out slow, hesitantly, and the full brunt of what Stiles was doing to his father finally caught up with him.

_You're killing him._

Stiles clenched his hands hard. He couldn't exactly explain to his father what had been going on in his life the past year and a half or he would look crazy, plus, it was his secret to tell really. So finally he said, "What do you mean?"

His father's hands slammed on the table with a loud bang and Stiles flinched. "Don't give me that!"

The teen swallowed hard. "What do you want me to say?" There you go Stiles, just go around in circles until he gets bored. "Kinda have to give me a clue before I can relay any info, ya know?"

"Stop playing games Stiles! You know exactly why we're here." His dad's brow was furrowed deep, his blue eyes glazed with anger. "I want to know what's going on with you? For the past year you have been going out late and then come home with bruises and cuts. I thought it was a phase and tried to ignore it-I thought hey, as long as his grades don't suffer, but now you're missing school-"

"Dad, it was one time!" Stiles interjected roughly. "Nothing to worry about."

His father shook his head, "We don't talk anymore." He took a deep breath. "You're not the same...you're not _my_ son. I don't know who you are anymore."

Stiles' heart clamped sharply. His chest hurt and it felt like his head was filling with led. "I-I'm sorry dad."

"That's not good enough anymore, Stiles." His dad's voice was thick and stuttering and if he started crying Stiles knew he wouldn't be far behind. "Just tell me what's going on, _please_."

Stiles shook his head.

"Is it drugs?" His father wheedled desperately. "You know we can get you help just-"

"I can't tell you."

The sheriff inhaled sharply and was silent. At that moment Stiles wished with all his might he could take back what he had said, what he had done, and all the shit he had caused in the last year, but more importantly he wished he hadn't failed his father like he had now.

"We use to be able to tell each other everything." The man stood, swallowing the last remains of his drink, before walking away. He paused in the doorway, his left hand gripping the archway, a golden wedding band glinting in the faint light. He paused like he was going to say something, Stiles held his breath, but instead his father sighed heavily and walked away.

 

<><><>

_Stiles jerked awake with a soft whimper escaping his lips. His breathing was rough and wet and he could feel tears trek down his cheeks as he fought the clutches of his Avengers sheets and comforter. Their hold was firm, wrapped tight around his legs and torso, and they only twisted and knotted further the more he tried to free himself. He didn't want to wake his dad, who was bone tried from working over time, but he didn't want to be alone either.  
_

_He wanted to climb into bed between his mom and dad like he used to whenever he had a nightmare, but mommy wasn't here anymore.  
_

_It was just him and dad now.  
_

_Stiles finally managed to escape their tangled grip with a small victorious cry and scrambled out of bed and down the hall. His dad's bedroom was open_ __like it had been the last few weeks,_ loud snores sneaking out of the bedroom.  
_

_Stiles eyes adjusted to the lack of light easily as he peeked inside, his dad was still dressed in his sheriff's uniform, only managing to get his boots off before sprawling across the bed. His breath stuttered with guilt and sadness. His mother's death had definitely taken it's toll on the two of them, especially his father who had to work more to pay off the hospital bill and take on the responsibilities of a single parent, caring for a hyper active kid.  
_

_Stiles heard what people said about him: that he was a nuisance and more work than he was worth. The kids at school weren't much better, their words stung and were callous, but Stiles had Scott.  
_

_He crept in slowly, tip toeing in, accomplishing to not make a sound before crawling into the bed next to other man. He had only managed laying his head down on his father's shoulder, sniffling quietly, when his dad jerked awake suddenly. Stiles stayed still while his father gained his barrings.  
_

_"Stiles?" His father asked groggily.  
_

_"I didn't want to be alone." Stiles whispered, burrowing deeper into his dad's comfort. He felt a hand card through his shorn hair, more tears fell, absorbed into the khaki uniform below.  
_

_"It's ok buddy," the man murmured. Somehow the words felt like they weren't only for Stiles to hear but his dad as well, as if trying to convince himself it would be alright, that they would get through this.  
_

_They were quiet for a moment before Stiles blubbered, "I miss mom."  
_

_"I do too," was uttered thickly back, "I do too." His father's arms enclosed around him and squeezed him tightly, they held each other, taking warmth the other had to offer. The message was clear, they weren't alone.  
_

_They were quiet once more.  
_

_Stiles was almost asleep, the steady heartbeat of his dad aiding him to unconsciousness,  when he heard his dad ask, "Stiles, why haven't you told me you were being picked on? I got a call from Ms. Lewis today. She said she had to break up a fight between you and another kid."  
_

_Stiles wasn't normally one to snap and resort to physical violence. He always preferred level headed negotiations than fists but earlier that day some kids had brought him to the breaking point, and he had seen no other alternative.  
_

_Stiles cuddled closer. "I didn't want you to worry."  
_

_"I worry more when I don't know what's bothering my son. Next time you promise to tell me what's bugging you?" His dad's chest rumbled. "Let's not keep secrets from each other, ok?"  
_

_"Only if you do the same." Stiles said.  
_

_"I promise."  
_

_"I promise too."_

  
_  
_< ><><>

Stiles didn't sit in the kitchen long. He went up into the sanctuary of his bedroom where he crashed onto the bed without bothering to undress or take off his shoes. He wanted to sleep and sleep he did.

He dreamt of walking through a fog, passing ghosts and shadows, before entering a golden garden with his mother in the center. Her eyes were soft and her lips curled in a crooked smile. She didn't say anything as she held him tight and let him rest upon her breast like a child. He took comfort from her embrace, a fake one, but it eased his mind all the same. _  
_

And when he woke it was to a soft shake to his shoulder.

He opened his eyes groggily, looking up at the offender, with sleepy eyes. Derek returned the stare.

Stiles blinked and turned to look at the time, it was 7:13. "Are you kidding me?"

"I didn't say anything."

Stiles yawned. "No, I meant waking me up so early."

"Technically you should already be awake right now anyway." Derek grumbled. "To get ready for school," he further clarified.

"Mehhhhhh!" Stiles jumbled, rolling out of bed. He yawned again before grabbing his backpack and keys that rested on his desk and headed to the door.

"Are you going to wear those clothes again?" Derek asked, arms crossed over his muscular chest, thick brows furrowed inward.

Stiles looked down at his clothes, the same Ramones t-shirt and pants from two days before still on his gangly figure. The teen groaned more and chucked his stuff on the bed before tearing his shirt off and shucking his pants off too.

"What are you doing here anyways?" He grabbed a different shirt, one of Lydia's picks, that clung to his slim waist and narrow shoulders. He tugged at it, trying to loosen the fabric and stretch it out. It helped and didn't feel so restricting. He couldn't do much about the pants though.

Derek leaned back against the wall, unbothered by Stiles' state of undress. "You didn't answer your phone last night so I figured you didn't want to be bothered last night. How did everything go?"

Stiles tugged on a pair of jeans jerkily, leaning against the wall so he didn't fall over. "Not good."

"What happened?"

Stiles shook his head, buttoning his pants, and grabbing his stuff again.

"Stiles..." Derek started, sighing heavily before continuing, "I don't think you should help out with this one."

Stiles froze. He was fully awake now as he turned to stare at the Alpha. "What?"

"You heard me. You need to stay outta this for now." Derek said. "Let the pack take care of this one."

"Are you fuckin' serious right now?" Stiles cursed, waving his hands in the air wildily. "Do you know _what_ you just said?"

Derek sighed heavily and ignored Stiles. "We decided to inform Danny about the situation. Him and Lydia will handle research and planning."

"Wha-Why? That's my job!"

_You're worthless._

"Don't worry about it Stiles. They are more than capable of handling it." Derek said, climbing through the window. "Better get to school or you'll be late."

In a flash of dark colors he disappeared from his room. Stiles ran over to the window, leaning out, he yelled, "You're a fuckin' prick!" but all that was around to hear was his old, snoopy neighbor, Mrs. Ronalds, who glared back at him, suspiciously. "Go back and feed your cats, ya hag!" He slammed his window shut on her shocked yelp.

Stiles left his house, his body shaking with anger. He drove to school hardly obeying the proper speed limit and barreled his way into a parking spot, steeling it from another student. He walked into school fuming, sat through his classes fuming, and entered the cafeteria still fuming. He only barely managed to set his lunch trey down smoothly so he didn't waste any of the food he had paid for. He was absolutely starving since he had skipped on breakfast.

His group of friends stared at him.

"What?" Stiles snarled nastily, ripping open his chocolate snack pack.

"What's got your panties in a wad?" Jackson questioned.

Stiles groaned. "Stupid dumbtard Derek!" He dug into his desert but noticed when everyone got shifty. "You knew?"

Scott rubbed the back of his head, guiltily. "We might have agreed with him."

Issac bit at his lips, stirring his food around his plate. "Derek told us that you were having a hard time at home...with your dad and we felt it was best that you mend the bridge so to speak."

Stiles stared at each of them, one at a time, and none of them looked him in the eyes.

Except Lydia, who flipped her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, and met his gaze unwaveringly. "Listen, me and Danny will handle this little escapade. It's going to be fine. You and your dad will make up and by the time you know it, you'll be back doing what you do best."

Somehow, her words didn't comfort him like they should have.

Stiles nodded with a small smile, "Eh, you guys are right." He flinched inside when he noticed everyone's relieved faces, their shoulders lifted as if a weight had been removed, and smiles adorned their lips easily. 

The teen scooped the last of his desert into his mouth. "So have you guys come up with a plan to get rid of the demon?"

They all tensed up.

"Please tell me you're not letting Derek be the bait?"

They all shifted uncomfortably.

Stiles sighed dramatically. So they weren't going to talk, huh? "So how did Danny take the news?"

And as if by magic the group relaxed.

Issac brightened. "He took it better than we had hoped. A part of me feels like he kinda knew already."

Stiles smiled at the others happiness. "Psh! Wouldn't be surprised if he did."

Erica smirked, red lips widening across her face. "Soooo when are you going to ask the boy out?"

Jackson growled while Issac blushed heavily and started mumbling under his breath.

"I think it will be a while," Boyd jabbed with a laugh.

"Hey, hey, hey," Stiles cuddled Issac, petting his curls, "don't pick on the baby."

Stiles watched as the others playfully teased Issac about his crush, staying quiet for the rest of the lunch hour, contemplating what he should do now. Stiles knew he should take the time to do what they said, make up with his father, but at this point he felt it was useless. Their relationship had already fallen apart like an old quilt, their patches that were once sewn so tightly together had been torn, the sides shredded and the thread broken. His father didn't trust him and Stiles couldn't blame him, not after all the lies he had told, and the blatant disregard for the older man's feelings last night. It would take a lot longer to get back to where they use to be.

When the bell rang they parted and went to class, Stiles didn't see any of them for the rest of the day. He went home and did some of his homework but got bored after an hour, so he played some video games but even those didn't prove to be entertaining. He tried texting Derek but his efforts were pointless, so he went to bed early.

The next day he noticed, wearily, whenever he brought up the demon, the pack all ignored him. Sometimes they even resorting to walking away hurriedly in the other direction. Stiles didn't stop trying to get any information from the pack about the latest villain, any news on the plan, but the more he tried the more he noticed his friends were avoiding him. And the only thought that would be running through his head was:

_They don't need you._

Soon, Stiles started packing meals and ate them in the library because he felt like eating there gave the others room to breath, to escape from his constant pestering. He'd finish his food quickly and would doze to pass the time. Derek was ignoring him too. He still hadn't answered any of his text messages and Stiles had even drove over to the house; but the werewolf must have heard him coming and fled into the woods.

His father was giving him the cold-shoulder as well, which wasn't surprising. Stiles never saw him around the house and his only comfort was standing outside his bedroom door, like a creepy sparkly vampire, to hear his snores.

Three weeks passed and there had been only one murder since Oliver's. Colby Walters, a teen from a nearby high school, was found in his bed two weeks ago and since then there had been nothing. Stiles didn't know if this was a relief or not because on one hand it meant the demon wasn't feeding from the pack or his father but then it meant it was still out there. He tried to think of it as a bad thing but he couldn't, because he was selfish like that.

It soon became too much for Stiles, sitting around with nothing to do and no one to talk too. He was getting antsy. So when the fourth week rolled around, Stiles made the decision to go to the Hale house one more time. He didn't know exactly what he would do if no one was there and he didn't know what he would do if someone _was_ either. 

School ended and he drove to Derek's house where he found it abandoned despite Derek's camaro being parked in it's usual spot. He searched around the property for the werewolf but didn't find him.

Stiles cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling, "Derek!" His call echoed throughout the forest and no one answered. He hollered twice more with the same results, kicking up dirt, he waited for twenty minutes.

Stiles clenched his fists, feeling empty and alone. He took a deep breath, shuddering shakily when he exhaled and his eyes began to sting and fill with moisture. He wiped at them angrily, he refused to cry. He breathed deeply to keep himself calm, to keep the overwhelming feeling of panic at bay, he didn't want to have a panic attack, not here, not out in the open like this. Derek was out there, he knew it, and he wasn't going to embarrass himself further in front of the werewolf. To make himself look needy. Stiles just let his shoulders slump with defeat and climbed into his jeep.

_No one wants you._

He drove home silently, entered the house, and laid upon the bed. His felt his eyes droop heavily, his breathing evened out shortly after, and he fell asleep easily. He then entered a dream where the pain wasn't as sharp and he wasn't alone. He entered a dream where he was just a shadow to those that didn't matter and was someone important to a person that did.

 

<><><>

Derek groaned, as him and Peter watched Stiles drive off. This was the third time in the last few days the boy had come looking for him and from the looks of it the last time. Derek had never seen the boy look so forlorn, so lost, when he had been standing the clearing after yelling for the Alpha's name.

Peter stood, brushing off leaves and dirt from his stylish pants. "Well, that was fun. How long are we going to have to avoid him?"

"Until the demon's dead," Derek growled.

"Oh goodie! If that's the case, it seems like the two of you are never going to do the nasty." Peter chirped sarcastically before walking back towards the house.

Derek looked confused. "Do the what?"

"You know, the horizontal tango, the monster with two backs, take the old eye to the optometrist," Peter sang, "have copious amounts of booty sex."

Derek stared at his uncle blankly, "You're disgusting. Plus he's a minor if you don't remember."

"Derek, when has age ever stopped _you?"_

The Alpha flinched, Kate's face flashing through his mind in a kaleidoscope of colors and pain. "I'm trying not to make the same mistakes."

His uncle paused, cracking his neck annoyed. "Derek, he's your mate, the least you could do is stop ignoring him! I mean did you see his face? It looked like he was going to cry."

Derek clenched his fists, ignoring the sting from his claws piercing his skin. Stiles _had_ looked like he was going to cry.

"You know we aren't any closer to getting the creature and ignoring the one who could find him doesn't help either." Peter carded his fingers through his wavy hair. "Lydia and Danny are helpful but they don't exactly have the skill Stiles does. We're at a dead end. We need him. You need him."

"He can't be apart of this until he has made up with his father," Derek said impatiently. "We all agreed it was for the best."

"Uhhh, I distinctly remember me being against that plan from the beginning."

Derek smirked, "Well, that's what happens when you're at the bottom of the totem pole."

"My dear nephew, you have to remember a pack is like democracy, every vote counts." Peter drawled lazily. "Which is precisely why you make a better Alpha when Stiles is around. At least then, you're not a complete idiot."

Derek snarled and swiped at his uncle, who bounced out of the way, but tilted his head to bare his neck.

"We _need_ Stiles, Derek." Peter spoke, his hands raised as if surrendering. "We need a new plan because frankly, the one with you running around as bait isn't working. Hell, the demon isn't even going after anyone in the pack."

"Maybe it moved on?"

"Don't be stupid."

Derek took a deep breath, rolled his eyes, and headed inside. "Let's call the pack over and then call Deaton, see if he knows anything new."

Peter scoffed and trotted after the Alpha. "Of course he does! He's like Nick Fury and Dumbledore rolled into one! His secrets have secrets while he spews cryptic shit at us."

Derek pulled out his phone, sending a mass text to the pack, and then dialing the doctor's number.

It dialed briefly before it was answered, "Hello?"

"Deaton it's Derek."

"Ahhhh, hello Derek what can I help you with?"

Peter poked the other male with a pointy nail to the side. "Tell him to stop playing dumb."

Derek swiped at the other again. "We're at a dead end here. The demon hasn't killed anyone in over three weeks and it hasn't gone after anyone in the pack. Is there anything you can tell us that will be beneficial to getting rid of it? The hunters are starting to get impatient since we don't have any results."

The doctor hmmed. "It hasn't gone after anyone in the pack?"

"No."

"That's very odd." Deaton said. "This creature is in a delicate state right now and will do anything to live. It's instinct is to go after prey that will sustain it enough to go after a more paramount meal. If it hasn't sunk it's claws into a werewolf, let alone a Alpha, then it must have found another creature that is more gratifying."

"Is it possible the demon has no problem from moving from human to human?" Derek inquired slowly. "Maybe it doesn't want reproduce?"

"Derek, this demon is one of the most remorseless creatures you will ever come across. You think the wolf side of you as one to choose instinct over reason, and that control is the only thing stopping you from become nothing more than an wild animal. Demons have no such luxury. They don't care. All they want is the next meal ticket and for it to suffer because that is their ultimate goal and their only one. They grow attached, like a mother to a child, in the most demented way and relish in the pain they cause."

 

<><><>

It starts off like it always does. He wakes and can see nothing, a hazy white smoke concealing his surroundings, but it doesn't stop him from walking towards his goal: a garden of florescent greens and jade which reflect golden amber beams of light. He passes ghostly shadows, the snow beneath his feet slowly melting into grass, and when he fully enters the garden his senses become clearer.

There in the center is his mother, ageless and beautiful.

"Bambi," She smiles warmly, beckoning him with the elegant flick of the wrist and curl of long fingers. He goes to her, feet stumbling, arms pinwheeling to keep balance, and when he reaches her she snatches him up in her arms. He feels at peace, a sense of calm washes over him, and his mind is wonderfully still. Her arms cocoon him and he inhales her fresh aroma but sneezes at the musty mold scent that lies underneath the rest. It's dusty and old and wrong.

"Bless you, sweetheart." His mother whispers calmly, carding her fingers through what's is left of his hair, and humming a kind tune. They are silent for the most part, Stiles taking comfort from her attention and warmth, but sometimes she will break the stillness. "What's the matter, Bambi?"

Stiles shakes his head, yawning as exhaustion settled over him, he wanted to ignore the outside world for a while longer.

"Oh baby, it isn't those friends of yours again, is it?"

He nods. Memories of the last couple weeks flash through his mind, feelings of pain, guilt, and loneliness wrap around his heart, tightening around the organ, causing him whimper. Above him his mother purrs contently.

"I knew they were trouble." She tucks his head under her chin and rocks him, cooing at him. "They don't care about you like real friends should, like I do. They don't appreciate you." The feeling in his chest gets worse. "They left you all alone but don't worry Stiles, I'll never leave you."

Like clockwork, the more words she murmurs the pain intensifies and the chest beneath his ear happily rumbles louder.

"When have they ever considered your feelings? When have they ever done anything for you? You cooked and cleaned and planned for them. You've bent over backwards and how do they repay you? They left you behind, disregarded you, abandoned you."

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sluggish, as his hands weakly clawed at his chest.

"Even your own father didn't want you."

He shuddered, cold but his veins felt on fire. He felt like he's going to throw up, sweat beading across his forehead, and his heart threatening to burst from it's cavern.

"...iles!" The teen's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

No one should be able to talk to him here.

"....Stiles...!" The voice sounded far away but familiar. It was like a soothing balm to his aches, a magical healing agent which helped alleviate the agony in his rib cage.

His mother's arms tighten, curling and slithering around him like a knot, and he winced from the strength hidden in her thin arms.

"They are trying to take you away from me," she spits finally, growling dangerously.

He blinks listlessly. "Who?"

"The people you call friends." She licks her lips and Stiles can make out a hint of fang peaking through. "I'll protect you. I'll keep you here with me and we'll be together forever, Bambi."

"Stiles wake up!"

He recognized that voice! It was Derek!

Dread settled over his shoulders but a stupid, tiny piece of hope remained, one that could flourish or diminish with a single question.

With a wavering breath he asked, "Mom....what's my name?"

Quickly, almost too fast for a eye to spot, her face morphed into something dark before changing back into a gentle appearance. "Now is not the time for that. If you haven't noticed your traitorous friends are out there trying to take you from me."

"Please say it," Stiles knew he should have prepared himself for the mixed up jumble of letters she expelled, but he failed as she had. The pain in his chest burst forth in a shower of dark colors and he cried out as she slurped and chortled happily.

"I can feel you hurting and it's delicious," it comes out a hiss, slicing and cutting to the ears, and far more terrifying than the Kanima's raspy call. Her words spewed forth with a cloud of death and sulfur, mold and rot cascading around his nose, filling his lungs with bitter realization. He wanted to recoil from the demon but couldn't, not with her limbs holding him close. "Keep hurting for me."

Stiles shrank into himself, suddenly terrified, and everything blurred.

 "STILES!"

 

<><><>

Stiles woke gasping for air, chest rising and falling with an unstable pattern. His body ached, his chest hurt, but the worst pain of all was centered in the middle of his forehead. It seared with sharp pinches and throbbed with dull cramps.

Stiles tried to raise his hand up to alleviate the pain however he couldn't move a muscle, his limbs heavy and useless.

A heavy hand with a kind touch petted his hair lovingly, and the pain lessened.

Derek.

"All signs show he's stable," that was Deaton's voice, "but you should keep him hydrated. He can get some real rest now and gather his strength back up."

"Stiles! He's awake?!" The teen flinched from Scott's exclamation, ears ringing. "Sorry," was whispered shortly after. He heard the thumping of feet pattering up the stairs before bursting into his room with a loud bang. "Shhhhhhhh!"

Stiles opened his eyes, trying to make out who had entered. The room was blurry and he barely made out the shapes of several figures in the room, the pack's hulking forms an encouraging sight. They all crowded around the bed, not making any move to touch, they just loomed over him creepily, whining softly.

"H-Hey," his voice rasped roughly even his throat hurt, like he had been yelling, "g-get in already."

They all climbed in, wary of Stiles sore body, cuddling as close as they dared. Each one whispered apologies quietly, begged for forgiveness, they admitted they loved him dearly and the pain disappeared with the pack's touch.

Stiles fell asleep to their soft confessions but this time it wasn't of a brilliant garden, or a hazy fog, or even of his mother.

He woke again and he wasn't in as much pain as the first time, however, his forehead still throbbed horribly. He opened his eyes and everything was still blurry, he blinked several times, however, it did little good.

"You won't be able to see for a while," Derek whispered from nearby. "It's a side effect of the demon possession."

Stiles' eyes filled with tears. It was a demon not his mother, he thought, everything was a lie.

"When you're better we'll talk about everything but what you need to do is rest," the Alpha replied lowly. "You're going to be ok, Stiles."

Stiles laughed wetly.

"You're going to be ok."

Like earlier, the words from the werewolf eased his worries, and he knew the man's words were the truth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Epilogue**

When Stiles was strong enough to get back on his feet, he made the pack take him out to a nearby burger joint and ordered enough burgers and curly fries to feed an army. He appreciated that they didn't treat him like glass although they were a little cautious around him, bringing him gifts, taking notes for him in class, and helping around his house with chores. Things were still a little blurry and Stiles was starting to think he might need glasses if it didn't clear up soon.

Derek explained what happened three days after the event, when he was able to keep his eyes open long enough to hear the whole thing. Long story short, when the demon had crossed over into Derek's territory, it must have caught wind of Stiles' spark and pain hidden underneath his false bravado. Apparently, his spark wasn't some little dinky sparkler but an actual firework, one that could light up the night sky if it was harnessed correctly. So it went after easy targets first, building up it's energy, and paying Stiles visits when he slept and was more vulnerable. The real kicker was, unknowingly to everyone in the pack, when they thought they were being helpful they had actually played a vital part in Stiles' fate; they were almost the cause of his death. The demon had almost won.

Stiles' quickly shut that train down, "It's no ones fault but the demon's. You had no way in knowing that your good intentions would be twisted like that. Next time just run the plan by me, because seriously you guys, you are all lost little lambs without me."

They might have won, nevertheless, Stiles didn't make out of it unscathed. The demon had left it's mark on his forehead, a single elementary brand. It looked like a tattoo but it wasn't something he could necessarily hide from his father. So confessions were made, tears, sobs, and hugs given, and they were on the mend. Things weren't the way they used to be but they would get there one day and Stiles couldn't be any more happy about that.

At night, he was never left alone, and frankly, he was grateful. Some nights he was too scared to fall asleep, only managing to do so when one of the pack members climbed into bed with him. More often then not it was the whole pack cuddling up next to him.

However, on the nights where it was just Derek, feeling his strong chest at his back, those nights were torture.

It must have been a miracle that Stiles never popped a boner in the middle of the cuddle fest, especially, since they would always lay with Stiles tucked into the curve of Derek's torso. The Alpha's breath would brush upon the skin of his neck, his thick arms would wrap around his waist, and Stiles' ass would rest in the cup of Derek's pelvis.

It might be because all his blood had rushed up to his face on those calm nights.

"So you never told me exactly how you guys managed to save me," Stiles says, wiggling to get comfortable. Derek lifts his arm, letting Stiles settle into place.

"The pack...they all tried waking you but you wouldn't respond. It was only when I said your name that you reacted." Stiles feels the Alpha breath deeply and stare at the back of his head. "It's because we're mates," he replies finally. Stiles jerks, he was not expecting Derek to give in so easily and reveal his secret. Maybe the reason he confessed was because they weren't staring at each other? He doesn't blame Derek, he wouldn't have the balls to admit his feelings to Derek if they were face to face either.

"Mates actually exist? I thought that was made up by horny fangirls." Stiles jokes, he licks his lips unsure. This can't be real, he thinks, there is no way Derek could return his feelings. Why hadn't he said anything before? Maybe he never woke up and now the demon is impersonating Derek?

"Wolves are one of only several animals that mate for life. They have a family life that is more loyal and pious than human relationships." Derek said, his arms tenses as if to pull the boy closer but refrains from doing so. It's not until he smells sadness and fear that he give into the instinct and tugs the other close. "Werewolves are lucky enough to have the intuition to know when they meet their other. We _know_ from the first moment we meet them."

Stiles feels his heartbeat pick up speed. "This has to be a dream, I mean, you've known that I was your mate since I was sixteen," the teen asks, "and you didn't say anything?"

The Alpha's eyes widen at the insecurity lacing the boy's words. His arms clench tight and he buries his face into the slope of Stiles' neck and shoulder. He had never been good with words, that was Laura's area of expertise, and he hopes the sentiment reveals how this was the truth. "It's real," he whispers softly, "I'm sorry I took so long to tell you. I just didn't want to make the same mistake as before. I didn't want to be like Ka-."

"You could never be like her," Stiles interjected harshly. He fights the hold only to turn slightly, to stare at the werewolf. "But please don't be lying to me I don't think-"

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles', a light press of flesh with the enticing tease of tongue and his hand came up to cradle Stiles' cheek, revealing his love through the simple act of a kiss. He heard Stiles whimper and the Alpha moans when he was granted access into the moist cavern. His tongue flicked and baited the boy's tongue to play, Stiles did so with a hesitant flicker and his novice technique made it clear that no one had touched his mate intimately. The werewolf's hand trailed from Stiles' cheek down his body, touching and teasing, before settling on the boy's hip, squeezing tightly and grinding his half masted cock into the groove of Stiles' behind.

Stiles broke away with a gasp, his breathing uneven, and with a playful smile, one completely genuine, said, "So the power of love conquers all?"

Derek smirks deviously, his hand sliding over to Stiles' hard dick, cupping the hard appendage and causing Stiles to grind back and buck into the touch. "You could say that."

Stiles knew maybe they should have waited before they let things escalate so severely, so intensely, but when Derek's licking the back of his neck and nipping it with sharp teeth he finds it hard to care.

They shed their clothes quickly, kicking off the blankets as the heat rises. Stiles feels like he's going to burst and he's fumbling around for something to grasp and hold onto. It's difficult because he wants to touch Derek too but he's scared and doesn't know what to do.

Derek must have sensed his distress, he stopped sucking a bruise behind his ear, and halted his hips from thrusting into the cleft of the boy's ass. "Hey, it's ok."

Stiles shakes his head. "I don't know what to do. I want to make it good for you too."

"You are, don't worry about that but let me make you feel good here, ok?" He waits until he sees Stiles nod before continuing. "I'm going to take care of you." He kisses the other sweetly and his hand carefully starts stroking the boy's hard penis. Derek watches silently as the boy is consumed with pleasure, making delicious noises, and his face warps into a beautiful expression of bliss.

Stiles feels Derek resume his thrusting, the other's hard cock catches at the rim of his hole and he cries out and grinds back hard. He has never wanted something so bad, to have that piece of Derek _inside_ of him, it's almost unbearable. Stiles whimpers and groans and clutches the sheets tight in his hands. He hears a distinct popping sound and unexpectedly something cool is touching his asshole. He feels it clench and relax at the feeling of Derek's fingers, one entering easily. It wiggles and soon another finger joins it.

"Have you ever touched yourself down here?"

Stiles nods swiftly biting his lip.

"Fuck, how many?"

"Just two. I was too scared to do more."

Derek thrusts his two fingers in gently, soon gaining speed, until he stills and watches as Stiles is humping back onto his hand, hard. "Fuck, fuck, you were really made for this weren't you?" The boy nods frantically, moaning. "Just wait until it's my cock up there. You're going to love it." Stiles moans louder, he adds another finger, and Stiles clenches down on the three appendages. He adds more lube and waits until Stiles begins to move once more.

Carefully avoiding the magic spot he pulls his fingers free, Stiles whines, and he oils up his angrily red cock. Grasping it with one hand, he tilts his hips forward, the tip sliding up the crack, grazing the winking hole before it immerses into Stiles' depths. They groan in unison and Derek has to use all his strength not to just simply thrust. He doesn't have to wait long however, because before he knows it Stiles is baring down, clenching tightly, and backs up off Derek. He repeats and the Alpha takes that as his cue to move and does so with relish. He moves his hips with long heavy movements, aiming for Stiles pleasure spot, and he knows he strikes true when Stiles cries out, shoving himself back violently.

Derek grunts, eyes locked on his disappearing cock only for it reappear and disappear once more. "Fuck-k, you love this."

"Yessss," Stiles hisses, pushing back once more. "Yesss."

"You were made for this, made for me, you're mine." Derek growls and his claws lengthen. Stiles shivers at the lack of control as they threaten to puncture his flesh but he knows Derek will never follow through. "You're _mine_."

Stiles gasps sharply as his mate's next thrust strikes hard on his prostate. "Yours, yours, _yours_." He says the word with conviction, repeating over and over again like a mantra.

Stiles is consumed with blissful delight, whimpering and sobbing from the tortuous pleasure he's receiving from Derek. It's only doubled with the feeling of love, safety, and comfort he's feeling from just being in the werewolf's arms. A simple touch of the older man's hand, the slight suckle from his mouth, sends flutters of ecstasy up and down his body. This is euphoria, terrifyingly overpowering as well as reassuringly devastating and it's absolutely wonderful.

Stiles reaches back, his hand tangling into Derek's hair, directing his mouth away from his neck to kiss him. Their tongues tango briefly before they simply pant into each other's mouths, and stare into each other's eyes. Stiles can barely make out Derek's eyes flashing from his beautiful hazel eyes to Alpha red and he wonders if his own look just as wild.

The intoxicating pleasure comes to a head and it's released when Derek reaches around and takes hold of Stiles purpling prick. The boy cries out, eyes rolling back into his head, and goes limp. Derek continues to thrust, hips loosing rhythm before he stills and Stiles feels his inside flood with liquid heat.

Stiles opens his eyes droopingly, feeling a pressure bump against his sensitive asshole. "What is that?" Stiles drives back lightly but is stopped by Derek's hand clutching his hip.

"Don't," he warns, "it's my knot."

Stiles twitches strongly, looking back abruptly, "That's real too?!" He blushes when he feels more cum gushes forth inside him.

Stiles sees Derek's cheeks flare and he grumbles. "Yes."

"Why didn't you stick it in?"

Derek's eyes shoot to his and he croaks weakly, "You don't think I'm a freak?"

"No."

"Kate did," was all he says and Stiles reaches back and kisses him. He realizes that this moment between them wasn't just about making him feel good and treasured but it was also for Derek.

"Well I don't," Stiles says truthfully, he wiggles and gripes when Derek's dick slides free. "Next time you'll knot me?"

"Maybe, you'll need to be stretched well because it will hurt." Derek pets Stiles' thigh shortly and reaches for some tissue. He cleans his mate's stomach and the crevice of his butt before wiping himself down. They settle with the Alpha on his back and Stiles tucked along his side.

They're on the doorstep of sleep when "I love you's" are whispered softly into each other's ears.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In the story there is a section that describes dead bodies (of minor characters that I created) but I wouldn't say it's anything too graphic and major, just a heads up!
> 
> Also there is sex between an adult (Derek, about 26) and a minor (Stiles, about 17).


End file.
